What's Left Of Me Expanded Version
by Dax1209
Summary: He didn't respond to his name, wasn't even sure what it was anymore. The sixteen year old boy was gone and in his place was the empty shell of a wolf. I was asked to turn What's Left Of Me into a full length chapter fic, so here we go. M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Day 1

"Stiles, what's wrong?"

"You should have believed me." Stiles stared at his father with something bordering on hatred in his eyes.

The sheriff couldn't remember ever seeing his son so angry, at least not since they buried his mother. "Son, what's going on?"

"You don't get to call me that right now. We came to you for help and you took his side." Stiles dropped Scott's bloody sweatshirt on the desk before walking to the door. "Jackson did that to him and now he's missing."

"Stiles!" The sheriff rounded his desk, launching in the direction of the front doors just in time to see Stiles pulling out of the parking lot and away from him. He looked down at the bloody sweatshirt in his hand and prayed it wasn't the bad omen he feared. "I need an evidence bag now." The Sheriff watched intently as one of his deputies pulled a bag up around the sweatshirt and sealed it inside. "Get it tested now and get someone over to Scott McCall's house. Be ready to put out an Amber Alert. Get Jackson Whittemore in here now!"

.

* * *

.

"Scott's gone." Stiles wasn't even sure how he managed to drive his jeep to the subway station from his father's office in the throws of a panic attack. As it was, all of his energy went to forcing that damning sentence out of his mouth in the presence of someone who might not even care.

"What are you babbling about?" Derek snarled at the pale teen on the stairwell. He could hear Stiles' heart thundering away in his chest, even as his breaths started stuttering in painful gasps.

"Jackson took Scott." Stiles shuddered, feeling his knees give out. He would never be able to wipe the scene from his memory. He could still smell the blood pooling on Scott's bedroom floor and the fresh plaster dust from the sheet rock sliced with desperate claws as Scott tried to fight off his attacker and failed. "So much blood."

The broken whisper stabbed the alpha with fear and Derek grabbed his chest as he collapsed on the floor. His body rippled through the change as he allowed the feral beast loose. Fierce red eyes turned on the messenger, growling a warning at the trembling human.

Stiles could feel the unspoken order for details in the growl. "They have him. Jackson took him over an hour ago but I don't know where they went. We were on the phone and I heard Scott screaming and a car door, but there was nothing when I got to Scott's house but blood." Stiles felt black closing in around him in a heavy fog. "I know you don't get along, but please Derek. Find him."

Derek roared, streaking out into the night in search of the most trusting idiot he'd ever met. He knew one day that Scott's goodness would get the better of him. Hunters would use any tool at their disposal to destroy a werewolf, including their compassion. He knew it was coming, warned Scott to be careful about trying to save Jackson, but he also knew, somewhere deep in his soul that Scott wouldn't learn, not until he was forced. Launching over the logs to the ledge, he stood on the boulder, howling a desperate call and hoping he wasn't too late but he was met with silence. Sending out a second desperate roar, he was met only with the howls of his three pups, safe in their homes. His legs shoved off the rock and he sprinted to the house, anxious to see if he could pick up the trail left behind.

The scent of Scott's blood intersected his path and he veered to the left toward the warehouse district. Six miles down the road he found Jackson's car and the site was covered in the stench of Gerard Argent, but the trail died abruptly. He had his suspicions after the run in at the underpass that Gerard was controlling the Kanima, but the scent of the two together confirmed his theory. The combination did not bode well for Scott and Derek could only pray that he would find the missing boy before Gerard put a blade through him. It sickened him to actually be praying they were interrogating him because he was well aware of what Argent's used to extract information, but the process was slow and it would give him the time he needed to find Scott.

Stiles was waiting for him in the same spot on the rail depot floor. "Find anything?"

"Gerard has him." The Alpha walked past him into the old car and cracked the glass on the wall. Yanking out a map of the rail lines through Beacon County, he walked back out and spread the paper over a crate near Stiles.

"Do you know where?" Stiles was immediately on his feet, scurrying over to the crate. He leaned over, searching the map as if the answer would spring out and tell him where to find his best friend.

"The trail went cold here." Derek pointed to the warehouse where he found Jackson's car as he searched the surrounding area. "They won't want him in the open," his finger traced a back road to the forest surrounding the town and he cursed. "There must be thirteen hundred square miles of land where they can be isolated."

"Nothing else to go on?" Stiles could feel his hope dying. Scott had already been missing for four hours. "Do you think he's still alive?"

Derek fought down a bought of panic and plastered a stoic look on his face. "Yes. I think Gerard is psychotic enough to torture information out of him." Stiles hissed, but appreciated the honesty. "If they were going to kill him, the body would have been at the warehouse with Jackson's car."

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles started scouring the map, looking for something that stuck out. He spent enough time looking over his father's shoulders to know what happens when there were no leads in a kidnapping. "If you think they took him to the woods, then they most likely took this road. Maybe we should drive it, work grid by grid until we catch his trail." Or at least he hoped Derek's super sniffer would catch the trail.

Derek nodded and grabbed the map. "You drive. If we don't find him by sundown I'm paying Allison a visit."

Stiles winced, but in the desperation to find his surrogate brother, he didn't protest. If Allison picked up any information, even the slightest hint of where Scott was, a little scaring by Derek would be worth it.

.

* * *

.

Scott groaned as he came to on a dirt covered floor of what looked like a basement. He could smell woods all around him and stale blood and urine on the floor. The cloying smell of monkshood burned his nose when he tried to determine anything else that would be helpful. He hissed, following the scent down to his burning arms and legs and found he was bound with ropes soaked in the toxic flower's oil. The parallel slashes from Jackson's claws were slow to heal but he seemed otherwise untouched, for the moment anyway. The ropes were enough to tell him that he was in the hands of hunters and he was afraid that Derek might have been right about Jackson. When he opened the door and found a dejected co-captain asking for help, he didn't think anything of letting him in the house and leading him up to his room. Despite the trouble Jackson had caused in his life, he truly wanted to help him conquer his demons so he could finish his shift to a werewolf. He had started to tell Stiles that he would call him back after he finished talking to Jackson when he smelled the sickly sweet Kanima poison. The reptilian eyes were smug as Scott dropped the phone and dodged the claws. Within minutes, his room was trashed and his gut was pouring blood onto the floor as he crumpled into a numb heap. His mind fought but his body remained incapacitated as Jackson hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him out of the room. He remained stuffed in a trunk for a few minutes until the car came to a stop. Gerard Argent's smiling face was the last thing he saw before the world went black.

The sound of approaching footsteps shook Scott from his memories and he turned his head to see Gerard. "Nice of you to join us, Scott." The elderly man was too cheerful as he squatted down in front of his granddaughter's boyfriend. "Now, how about you and I have a little talk."

"I have nothing to say to you." Scott snarled at the misleading, grandfatherly face.

Gerard let the look slide away, showing his true insanity. "I was hoping you would say that." He lifted a set of wires attached to Scott's side, similar to the ones that Kate used on Derek. "But you will tell me everything I want to know about Derek Hale, Scott. Starting with where he is hiding." Scott felt his skin melting under the electrodes as the current shot through his body.

.

* * *

.

Sheriff John Stilinski had walked many crime scenes in his tenure on the Beacon Hills police force, but nothing prepared him for the train wreck in Scott's room. He felt his throat closing at the sight of a blood pool slowly congealing on the floor. If he didn't know any better he would say there was an animal attack in the room. Some sort of weapon with four equidistant blades had slashed through the sheet rock and a chair indicating a great deal of strength and rage. If Stiles was right and Jackson was involved in this crime, he wasn't sure he would ever forgive himself for not believing his son. He lifted Scott's bloody t-shirt from the bed with his pen, studying the numerous slash marks through the fabric and determined it was most likely ripped off during the fight.

"Damn." The sound of his deputy's voice drew his attention to the door. "This kid must have put up one hell of a fight."

Through his terror, John gave a small smile in agreement. "He's a good kid."

"Scott?" The tension in the room ratcheted up when the desperate voice drifted up from downstairs. "Scott! Oh, God, Scott where are you?"

John sagged heavily and forced his body to stand. He met a frantic Melissa in the hall and blocked her path to Scott's room. "Mel, you don't want to go in there."

"John? What's going on? What happened to Scott." Her breath hitched and she felt her knees starting to give. "Is he in there, is he okay?" She couldn't force the ugly four letter word out of her mouth as she crashed to the floor in agony. Her little boy was not dead, she would not accept his loss.

"Scott's not in there." John knelt next to her, lifting her easily in his arms and carrying her downstairs to the living room. "Stiles was on the phone with him about four and a half hours ago and heard a struggle. When he came over Scott was gone and his room was a mess." He placed a reassuring hand on her knee. "He was taken by force and we think he was injured."

Melissa's body lurched with hysterical sobs, "No, not my baby." Desperate eyes locked on him. "Please John. Find him, find my boy."

He could feel tears welling in his eyes. "We are doing everything we can. We have a credible suspect that we are tracking down and I have every available body in the department on this case." The words felt hollow, like a rehearsed speak meant to keep the victims from losing their sanity and it made John feel even more like a prick. "Do you have somewhere you can stay? My boys are going to be up there a long time looking for evidence." Melissa shook her head, not able to form words through the sobs. "Then you can come with me. I'll take you to the station and you can wait there for updates." He grabbed her purse and helped her stand, hating the feeling of futility sinking into his bones. He knew the math, had been around the job a long time and the amount of blood found in Scott's room didn't bode well for their ability to bring him home alive.

.

* * *

.

Derek snarled as they turned down another road and found nothing. "This is worthless."

"You have a better idea?" Stiles felt his hands tense on the steering wheel. They had been driving aimlessly around the woods for six hours in the middle of the night. He could barely see three feet in front of the car and with every passing mile Derek sank further into a feral rage.

"Take me to Argent."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled over to the side of the road. "We tried that already. The house was boarded up and no one was there." He shook with desperation and abject fear for his friend, his brother. "Do you really think anyone would go back there tonight if Gerard had the foresight to move them all first?"

Derek snarled and muscled his way out of the car. He rolled the map out on the hood of the car and shined his flash light over the area they now occupied. Slashing through yet another box on the grid, he fought the urge to fling it across the road in his wrath. His eyes met Stiles' watery gaze through the windshield and he slumped against the quarter panel. As much as it pained him to stop he knew that they needed to get some rest. Stiles was running on fumes and it would do him no good if the teen drove them into a tree during the search. "Grab the gear. We'll rest a few hours and pick up the search at first light."

"You're giving up?" Stiles jumped out of the car in outrage.

"No! I'm making sure I have enough strength to fight our way out when we find him. We're no good to Scott if we get ourselves killed trying to rescue him."

Stiles let his fist fly, hissing at the pain in his hand when it connected to Derek's face. "We can't just leave him with the Argents! You said they would torture him."

"I hate this as much as you do Stiles." The angered wolf slammed him against the side of the Jeep. "I will find him and I will rip the throats out of anyone who stands in my way. But not tonight." He forced his claws to released the younger man, reminding himself that Stiles was as scared of what was happening to Scott as he was right now. "I can't see on a new moon and I don't want to miss anything that could lead up to Scott."

Stiles sagged in defeat, knowing intellectually that Derek was right, but feeling incredible guilt at the thought of giving up even for a short amount of time. "Four hours. We start again at five am."

Derek nodded and rolled up the map. Wordlessly he grabbed a bed roll and a power bar from the back seat and bedded down for the night. Stiles was slower to follow, setting the alarm on his phone in the off chance he did manage to fall asleep and make it through the night terrors the image of Scott's room would bring to mind. The last time he felt this helpless he was watching his mother suck in useless breaths as she died from lung cancer. He wasn't sure he could survive that kind of fall again


	2. Chapter 2

Day 2

"Myers, tell me you've got something." John loomed over his deputy as he sat reviewing the case file.

"Yes, Sir." He handed the Sheriff a print out. "We confirmed that the finger print matched the one taken from the restraining order that Whittemore signed. Judge Pierce signed off on a search warrant for the house and the car. He wants more than a finger print before he signs off on the arrest warrant for the sixteen year old kid of his poker buddy."

John scowled at the paper. "Get Madison and Parker over their now. I want that house swept with a fine tooth comb. Nothing gets left untouched."

"You got it, Boss." Myers watched his boss stalk back to his office, pausing in the doorway. Every one in the station knew how close he was to the McCall boy and they were all waiting for the moment when he gave up going by the book and went after Whittemore himself.

"Myers, get Jackson Whittemore in here for questioning while they're checking the house. I want him in the station when they give me enough to hang him."

Myers flinched, tapping his pen nervously on the desk. "He's in the wind, Sheriff. No one has seen him since yesterday."

"Damn it!" A mug went flying across the Sheriff's office and crashed into the wall before he came storming back out to the bull pen. "Marks, Smith, find me Whittemore. I don't want to see you again until you're dragging his ass into interrogation."

The officers in question grabbed their jackets and guns and sprinted for the door, having no desire to be on the wrong side of Stilinski's temper.

.

* * *

.

Scott screamed out in agony as the whip kissed his skin, leaving deep welts. The sadistic hunter in front of him laughed with glee and rubbed monkshood into the bleeding gashes, almost getting off on the desperate roars of pain. "Where's your alpha now, dog?"

"Hickory," Gerard called his name like a parent scolding a kid for taking too many cookies and Scott wanted to reach out and sever his throat. "We need the boy alive, for now." He smiled warmly and knelt in front of the boy staked to the floor with crossbow bolts. "How are we feeling this afternoon, Scott?"

Scott shuddered at the knowledge that it was afternoon, meaning Argent already had him for thirty some hours and he hadn't been found. If he was coming, Derek would have been there by now, tracking his scent from Jackson's car. A pain erupted in his chest that had little to do with the taser Gerard shoved into his groin as he realized Derek was leaving him to his fate. He warned the upstart boy enough, that if he chose a solitary path that he wouldn't be there to save him, but somehow Scott hadn't believed that Derek would really abandon him. Something died a little in his heart and he felt himself fade back from reality.

"Oh no you don't." Gerard stabbed his dagger into Scott's abdomen. "Wake up, Scott. We're not done talking yet."

A cry of frustration mingled with pain and the distraught boy lifted his head, spitting bloody phlegm into his captor's face. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Scott, this can all stop." The old man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as if trying to comfort him and Scott flinched in pain as he tried to pull away. "I can make the pain go away. All you have to do is tell me where Derek is hiding."

"No." His head fell back against floor and he closed his eyes against the pain, almost biting through his tongue as another current danced through him. Even if Derek did leave him to rot, Scott couldn't, wouldn't hand him over to Gerard. Somewhere in his rapidly breaking heart he could feel a sliver of hope that the alpha hadn't given up on him, hadn't found Scott as completely worthless as everyone else in his life, but with every sting of the whip, every shock of voltage, Scott felt that part of himself dying. He fought it, grabbed on and sank his teeth into it, because he knew that as soon as he lost his hope, he would cease to be.

.

* * *

.

"What did you find?" The Sheriff barreled into the room, only marginally avoiding the technician taking sample fibers from the carpet.

"Blood." Myers pointed to the small drops of scarlet contrasting the beige carpet by the window. "And Parker found an unknown substance in the bathroom. We're sending it to the lab, but it looks like the same stuff that was on the kid's sweatshirt."

"Get it there now." John felt a surge of hope.

"It's already on it's way. Gallway said whatever test they were running on the thing would take four hours once the samples are prepped, so it will be a while." The deputy stood and surveyed the room for any other information that they needed to give the Sheriff. "We haven't found anything else here, but Smith called in to say he had a lead on the car. It was caught on a traffic cam headed west of the McCall house. Their pulling any camera they can find in that direction in the hopes of finding it."

John cursed and shoved his hands in his pocket so he didn't give in to the urge to fling something across the room. "How hard can it be to find a silver Porche?" Growling, he scrutinized the room again before turning toward the door. "Call me when you have something. I'm going to check on Melissa."

.

* * *

.

Stiles stared blankly at the map after he crossed out the fifth grid of the afternoon. Derek was out somewhere streaking through the tall grasses and underbrush trying desperately to pick up the scent of his friend. With each passing grid, each failure to find any clue of Scott, he watched Derek become a little more unglued and it was slowly killing any hope that he had left that they would find Scott in one piece. He wondered if his father found anything, but considering that he had been sharing text messages with Scott's mom all morning asking if he heard anything new, Stiles knew that the investigation wasn't going anywhere. He supposed he should tell his father that Gerard had Scott, should get the hunt pointed in the right direction, but he had no idea how he was supposed to explain that knowledge to his dad, if he would ever believe him in the first place. He wiped angrily at the moisture building his eyes, determined not to break down. He was going to find Scott if he had to search every inch of California grid by grid and then he was going to sit back and watch Derek feast on the blood of the Argents. Any soft feelings he had for Allison died when he realized she packed up with the rest of the family and disappeared into hiding. She hadn't responded to any of his text messages, so if she knew what was going on, she was complicit and if she didn't then she was dumber than Stiles thought. No one could have a grandfather like Gerard and have no idea that he could be so dangerous and even Stiles could see the threats that her mother made to Scott. The Argent matriarch was not exactly subtle.

Shouting in frustration, he dragged his finger over the topographical map they bought to replace the old train map and looked for any suspicious areas in the next grid. He would have to return to town for gas soon and it would delay them even further. He was buying eight or nine gas cans and filling them up while he was there. There was no way he was going to let them be slowed down by piss poor gas mileage every six or seven hours. If they stocked up on power bars and water they wouldn't even need to return to town for a day or two.

"Hang in there man. We're coming."

.

* * *

.

Melissa stared numbly at a photo on the desk and felt tears leak from her eyes. Scott stood grinning at the camera with his arm flung casually around Stiles' after their first lacrosse game as freshman. Even as benchwarmers the pair had been so excited to even make the squad that they demanded the occasion be documented. Holding the photo to her heart, she crashed back down on the couch of John's office and wondered if she would ever see that happy grin on her son's face again. The last month had been nothing but fighting in the McCall household and she couldn't stomach the thought that her baby was out there somewhere, suffering and thinking that his mother found him a disappointment. He tried to explain after she picked him up at the police station, tried to tell her that things were bad and he wasn't just flaking out, but she was so sure that Allison was the cause that she didn't listen. "I'm so sorry, Baby. I'm sorry I was a crappy mother."

"No you weren't." John stood in the doorway, taking in her puffy eyes and raspy voice. He knew she spent the day sobbing out her pain and fear and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and promise her everything would be okay. They were way past the twenty four hour mark in the case and he knew enough about kidnappings to know that wasn't a good sign. He told himself he wouldn't lie to her when this started but he was starting to fight the impulse to give her some sort of peace.

"Did you find anything?"

John flinched at the hope in her eyes. "Not enough." He watched the spark dim and her eyes became hopeless again. "I'm not going to give up, Mel, and neither should you." He reached out and took her hand. "Scott is a strong kid. He fought his attacker and he will keep fighting." She nodded, her shoulders trembling once again. "Come on, I'll take you to the house so you can get a shower and a good night's sleep."

She let out a hysterical sob. "How am I supposed to sleep when he's out there somewhere, alone and terrified?"

He sighed, agreeing whole heartily with the sentiment. "I don't know, but we have to try or we'll be no good to Scott." Sniffling, she grabbed her purse and allowed him to lead her out to the waiting vehicle.

.

* * *

.

Several trees were felled in Derek's rage as they came to the realization that they weren't finding Scott for another day. He ran off into the woods in a frenzy and started slamming into trees, pounding his helplessness out on the trunks until the wood cracked and splintered, falling to the ground. He screamed in his human voice, seethed at the small sliver of the moon for not giving him enough light, enough power when he needed it the most.

Gerard took Scott forty-four hours prior and knowing how savage the man could be, Derek wasn't sure what he would find when they did track down the beta. Morosely, he stumbled back to the Jeep, grabbing his bedroll and spreading it on the ground. "Come on, Scott. Fight him." Stiles remained silent across the clearing, watching with desperate eyes as Derek worked through his tantrum. The most annoying kid he knew couldn't even muster the spirit to talk and he knew that if they didn't find Scott that Stiles wouldn't survive this. "I need you to keep fighting." Derek wasn't sure he would survive it either. His body shuddered and he pulled the sleeping bag closer, basking in the scent of Scott on the fabric. "Just fight."

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

Day 3

Scott could feel tremors dance along his limbs even when the current was turned low enough he barely registered it and he wondered if he would have permanent nerve damage if he managed to survive this. Between the lack of food and the wolfsbane running through his system, he was unable to heal, leaving him broken and at the mercy of a family of psychos. The current was preventing him from transforming so he couldn't call out for help, not that he would be answered. He had been listening in the breaks between torture. He would have heard the alpha sixty miles away, but there was nothing. No one was calling for him and he suspected that meant no one was coming for him either. He shivered, cowering to the back of the dog kennel where they stuffed him after his torture sessions. Hickory was coming down the stairs with one of the Argents. Scott recognized all of their smells by now. Gerard, Chris and Victoria had all taken a turn at carving the information out of his flesh, but no one seemed to enjoy it as much as Victoria. Her pristine heals clicked down the wooden staircase as she entered the dank basement. "Good evening, Scott." He flinched at the sight of the whip in her hand, unable to offer more than a token protest when Hickory yanked him from the cage and chined him to the ceiling, pulling the chains taunt enough that his broken bones separated against the weight of his body. He shrieked out as wave after wave of red hot torment washed over him. "Ready to get started again?"

.

* * *

.

Jackson came to, naked in the shallows of the falls on Watson's Ridge. He had no recollection of how he got to the small park, but he could remember flashes of the previous few days. He could see Scott, wolfed out and fighting him with every thing he had, remembered Principal Argent running his hands through Jackson's bloody hair affectionately as they took Scott from the boot of his car. Sometime after that, he ran. He wasn't sure what Argent was going to do to Scott, but he knew that he didn't want to be around when they figured out he was a part of it, willing or otherwise. Bile rushed up his throat at the memory of Scott's half dead body curled in the small trunk of his car. The knowledge that he was the cause of the wounds brought a dizzying spell of nausea and he couldn't seem to catch his breath as his stomach revolted.

When he heard the clicks in the background, he turned to see he was surrounded by at least eight members of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, all aiming their guns at him. Jackson felt the fight leave him as he sagged on the cement and let one of the deputies put him in cuffs. He reassured himself that everything would be fine. His father would get him out of this mess just like he did everything else in his life.

.

* * *

.

John was just getting out of the shower when the phone rang. He sprinted into his room, hoping to stop the noise before it woke the woman sleeping in his son's room. "Stilinski."

Myers tired voice broke through the tinny speaker. "They just brought in Whittemore. The lab is already testing the blood in the trunk of the car."

"I'm on my way." He slammed down the phone and went for his dresser. Fighting the urge to let out a victory whoop, John yanked on any clothes he could reach and sprinted out the door to the department sedan parked in the driveway. Finally something was going his way.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 4

Scott woke with a start as he felt eyes on him. He wasn't sure when he passed out but he could feel Victoria's displeasure that her entertainment had been cut short. His eyes landed on Hickory with a sword in his hand and finally Scott's body got with the program and started to fight. He fought the chains as hard as he could until he felt the electrodes come loose and the current stopped completely. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He flung his head back, shifting and letting out a howl of pain into the morning air. His call was cut off immediately when Hickory slammed a dagger into his lung and Scott choked on the gasps for air. His world went black as something heavy connected with his skull and he missed the answering call.

.

* * *

.

Derek's body lurched into consciousness when he heard the stilted howl. "Stiles!" The call was cut short, to brief to give him an accurate location of the cry for help. He threw his head back in desperation, crying out for Scott to howl again, to help them find him but he was answered with silence.

"What was that?" Stiles was up on his feet, flailing with sleep laden limbs.

"Scott just howled." Derek didn't look up from his task as he stretched out the map and tried to figure out where the call originated.

The younger of the pair perked up immediately with the first bit of hope he had since he walked into Scott's room. "Where?"

Taking the permanent marker, he started to draw a funnel, as best as he could in the direction of the call. Scott could be up to seven miles from them and the ridge line the sound bounced off could mean that he was anywhere in a grid twelve miles across. "I don't know they cut him off. All I know is west." He circled eight grid blocks. "He has to be somewhere in these grids."

Stiles stole the map, looking for the best route to get them to the area as quickly as possible. "That's eighty square miles."

"I know!" Derek fought the urge to deck his driver. "But it's the best we've got. We'll start in the center and spiral out."

Stiles nodded, gathering the gear as quickly as he could and shoving it in the back of the Jeep. "Hang in there Scott, we're coming."

.

* * *

.

"Hale's call was eight miles northeast of here." Mitchell looked on the unconscious prisoner with disgust. "We're pulling everyone we have to cut off his path here."

"Well Scott, maybe you are of some use after all." Victoria sneered at the boy and ordered Hickory to secure the electrodes again before she left the room to confer with her father-in-law.

.

* * *

.

"Where is Scott McCall?"

"How should I know?" Jackson glared at the Sheriff. "I filed a restraining order against him, remember? We don't hang in the same circles."

"Yeah, I remember. Funny thing about that, we found these finger prints in Scott's room." The Sheriff threw a photo on the table. "They are a match to you, but the blood is Scott's. Can you tell me why, if Scott was such a danger to you, that you would be in his room, where he was last seen, leaving finger prints in his blood when you don't have so much as a scratch?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Jackson looked at his father, expecting him to stop the proceedings, but his father was frozen beside him. Lawyer or not, even Whittemore Senior was having trouble refuting the evidence listed with the arrest warrant for his son. He sat in a stupor at the table of the interrogation room, looking at his son as if he never met him.

"Then there's this." Stilinski put an evidence bag containing Scott's sweatshirt on the table. "You see these slashes?" He pointed to the long tears in the fabric. "We found the same paralytic on them that was present on the bodies of Joseph Lahey, Bennett Herbt and Tucker Cornish and Sean Long. We matched it to a sample taken from the sink in your bathroom, your shower and the floor of your car."

Jackson started to feel fear dancing up his spine. "I don't know how that got there."

"Did I tell you that when we searched your car we found Scott's blood all over the trunk?" The sheriff stood, hovering over the scared teen. "The day you filed that restraining order, Scott told me that they were just trying to stop you from hurting people, hurting him. I didn't believe them and now I have to live with a sixteen year old kid being abducted with all the evidence pointing to you. You better pray that we find him alive, Jackson, because not even your father will be able to save you from me if he isn't."

Jackson sagged in defeat. "Principal Argent."

"What?" John leaned across the table to insure that he heard the words correctly.

"I took him to Principal Argent."

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed the evidence from the table and slammed the interrogation room door on the way out. He found Myers sitting on the other side of the observation glass. "Get me a warrant for Gerard Argent now and get him in here."

"On it Boss." Myers sprinted back to his desk and started making phone calls.

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

Day 5

His reactions were becoming sluggish. The loss of time was disconcerting but not as much as the desperate hunger in his gut. It had been days with nothing more than water to keep him conscious for his torture sessions and Scott wasn't sure how much more he could take. There had been no return to his cry for help and he knew, now without a doubt that Derek wasn't coming for him, no one was. He locked his mind away, hiding from the pain as Gerard fired questions with every kiss of the whip. He might be dying alone, but he wasn't about to help his torturers win the war.

"You can end this Scott. I can give you peace. Just tell me what I want to know?" Gerard almost clapped at the fierce brown eyes that glared back at him. "Humans are so much more fragile than you beasts. Your friend Stiles didn't last nearly this long." He laughed at Scott's whimper. "The traitor to humanity only made it thirty-two hours before he bled out. Sad really."

Scott flung his head back, crying out an soulless wail of pain. He'd done everything he could to protect Stiles from nasty underbelly of the supernatural. The thought that Scott's place in the darkness got his best friend killed broke what was left in him. His hope shattered and he resigned himself to the fact he was truly alone. He was going to die alone in this room, stinking of blood and urine. "Then you have nothing left." Dead eyes lifted to study Gerard and manage to draw a flinch from the patriarch, realizing too late that he might have pushed too hard. Scott's head dropped forward and he surrendered to the pain he'd been fighting for days. He felt his sanity drift away in the tide and embraced the darkness.

.

* * *

.

"Sheriff, you're going to want to see this." Myers grimaced as he opened the door for his boss, showing him into the Argent home in an upper end neighborhood.

John stepped across the threshold and felt his knees weaken. The house was vacant, only random empty boxes and trash littered the rooms, indicating the move had been rushed. "Damn it!" Giving in to the rage fueling his tired body, he slammed his foot into a box and watched with satisfaction as it soared across the room. The forensic team froze, watching their usually steady leader lose his cool at a potential crime scene. He took a deep breath and turned to the deputy. "Myers, I don't care how many markers you have to pull in I want every scrap of information on anyone who ever shared the same airspace with these assholes. Telephone, internet traffic, financials, anything and everything. Call in the feds if you have to, just get me Argent." Myers gave a shaky nod and watched the Sheriff storm out the door.

.

* * *

.

Melissa stared at the pills in her hand and shakily forced one down with a glass of luke warm water. Gladys was sweet, but the casserole on the table was going to remain uneaten until her son was back in her arms. She could barely tolerate more than dry toast with the clenching of her stomach. Her fingers clenched around the t-shirt on the top of Scott's laundry basket and she drew it to her face, pulling in the scent of her son, sharp and woodsy. Sadly, she drifted into the living room and curled on to the couch, letting the medicine dull her pain and bring the temporary respite of sleep, hugging his shirt to her face.

.

* * *

.

Derek snarled, barking for Stiles to stop the car.

"What? Is it Scott?" Stiles slammed on the brakes, his heart beating furiously in anticipation.

"No. Hunters, a lot of them." Derek jumped out of the car and started up the ridge, shouting for Stiles to wait while he checked things out. He skidded at the top and surveyed the other side of the ravine. At least twenty men were waiting in the trees for the jeep to crest the hill. There was no way he could face them on his own. Growling, he skidded back down the hill to the Jeep and hopped in the passenger seat. "There's too many of them."

Stiles smashed his hand into the steering wheel. "Can't you call your little pups?"

"And get them all killed? They aren't ready to face one hunter let alone twenty." He snatched the map from the seat between them and started to search for a way around. "Good news is they are here to stop us from getting to Scott."

"Meaning that he is that way." Stiles flung his arms around in frustration. "We have to do something!"

"We have to double back." He handed the map to Stiles and pointed to a small access road that would bring them around the ravine to a ranger's station. "Get us there. It will give us a better vantage point so we can see where they all are."

Little was said as Stiles turned the Jeep around and made the forty minute loop back around and up the mountain. Stiles sat contemplating their options as he carefully steered his car up the uneven terrain on the access road. "If there's that many of them, we can't fight them alone." His bit his lip, tapping anxiously at the wheel. "I have a plan."

Derek groaned. Things always went haywire when those words fell from Stiles' lips. "What?"

"If Dad knows that the Argents have Scott, he'll send half the force to deal with the hunters." He shot a nervous look over at the alpha, waiting for his head to get slammed into the steering wheel. "If nothing else it will distract those guys, but if we're lucky they will get their hands on one of the Argents and find out where Scott is being held."

A deep threatening growl filled the car as Derek made it obvious he didn't like the plan. If history told him anything, it was that counting on outsiders would only lead to betrayal and disappointment, but at the moment they needed all the help they could get. "Fine." As soon as the car stopped the brooding alpha shot out of the car and climbed the ladder to the watch tower, attempting to see anything in the distance that might prove to be a plausible location on Scott.

Stiles watched the werewolf for a moment before taking a deep breath and grabbing his phone. He hadn't spoken to his father since the blow up in the station house and he wasn't sure that he really wanted to talk to him now. He put it off a few more minutes by searching the ranger's station, looking for any equipment they might need during the rest of their search. With a heavy heart, he reminded himself that Scott needed him and he was more important than any hard feelings between the Stilinski men. His father barked a greeting immediately and Stiles knew that he was living call to call, waiting for any new piece of information. He witnessed the obsessive behavior enough to know the cost on his father's health. "Principal Argent has Scott."

Any relief John had at hearing his son's voice was engulfed by the words spoken. "Yeah, I know." His hand tightened on the phone. "How do you?"

Stiles took the binoculars from the ranger's desk and searched the sleeping quarters for anything else that might be useful. "I'll explain later. We ran into some of his security in the woods off route 4. They had a lot of guns, Dad. I mean freaking Expendables movie arsenal."

John felt his heart stop. Stiles was not known for being rational when someone he cared about was in trouble. "You better not be anywhere near them."

"We're not stupid." Stiles snarled and choked the phone in his hand. He grabbed the axe just in case he had some reason to break down a door and walked out to the watchtower in time to see Derek climbing down. "I'll call you if we find anything else."

"Who's we?" John cursed when he realized his son hung up on him. "Myers!" He walked out into the bullpen with a glimmer of hope. "I need every available man here and in body armor in fifteen minutes. I have a possible lead on Argent and he's got heavily armed security."

"On it boss!" Myers grabbed his phone and dialed over to the switchboard, instructing the technician to call in every available officer.

.

* * *

.

Chris Argent looked at his daughter with sadness as she gazed out the window longingly. He hadn't been back to the cabin since the first day of Scott's capture, unable to stomach the lengths that his father and his wife would go to extract information. Every time he looked at Scott he saw the smile on his daughter's face when she talked about him. All his life he had lived by a code, one that gave him the security of knowing he was better than the monsters they hunted, but this wasn't even close to the line. Victoria had trampled all over everything they stood for in a vindictive strike at the beast that dare touch her daughter and her strings were being gleefully pulled by his father.

"Why did we have to leave?" Allison's eyes remained on the glass, clearly unhappy with him. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"Your mother's orders."

Allison turned at the contempt in his voice. "What's going on?"

"A beta's been captured and she didn't want you caught in the cross fire." He sat in the desk chair of the quaint bed and breakfast.

"Which one." Allison could feel a terrible weight settle on her chest.

"It doesn't matter." He could see that his answer stirred up more panic and he turned away from her, signaling the end of the conversation. She would learn eventually and he didn't want to be the enemy when she did. Gerard and Victoria were behind this gross misuse of power and he wasn't going to deal with their fall out.


	4. Chapter 4

Day 6

Derek was itching from their vantage point above the fray as the six police cruisers rolled up over the ridge. Argent's men started firing before they even realized who the target was and Derek almost smiled at the chaos when they realized they were shooting at innocent humans, in law enforcement as well.

"Go Dad." The teen's whisper was answered with a nod as they watched the battle. Stiles flinched when two of the officers went down, but he didn't recognize them and assumed they were on loan from the state police.

"They're occupied, let's go." Derek dropped off the tower and started for the car, not waiting to see if Stiles was following him. It was two in the morning and he wasn't relishing the idea of their headlights drawing attention, but the loss of his men to the police might make Gerard turn up the time table and he was desperate to get to Scott before it was too late.

Stiles was in the car next to him within seconds and he found himself grudgingly respecting his companion. By all logic, Stiles should be a quivering mess of despair days ago but he just kept moving, as determined to find Scott as Derek. Silently, he handed over a bottle of water and turned his attention back to the map. This set back had cost them nine valuable hours and he could feel his wolf starting to win the battle for control. If he wasn't worried about giving away their position he would have started howling again, on the off chance the Scott could respond. He bit his tongue until it bled instead, and focused on finding the best path back to the road behind the gun battle.

.

* * *

.

Six men were dead, two officers injured and twelve others were in police custody by the break of dawn. John was ready to skin someone alive if he didn't get information from one of the gunmen involved in the Route 4 ambush. They all miraculously clammed up when the name Argent was mentioned and no one seemed all that upset that Scott had been taken. If John heard one more back woods punk call Scott a dog or an animal he was likely to get himself fired. He sat across from Grady Mitchell, burying his rage under a professional veneer. "You're going to jail for your part in the shootings of Deputies Hastings and McCormick. It's up to you whether that ends in a visit with the needle." He placed a photo of Scott on the table, barely acknowledging the deputy entering the room behind him. "Tell me where Gerard Argent is hiding this boy."

"That monster deserves everything he gets." Mitchell spit on the photo and it took all of Myers strength to keep his boss from climbing over the table. Mitchell laughed at the Sheriff's rage. "The dirty dog won't be nothing more than bones when you find his body."

Myers pulled the older man out of the interrogation room before he could give Mitchell's lawyers a reason to get him a free pass. "John?" The casual use of his name by one of his deputies snapped the distraught father out of his maelstrom more than anything else could have. "Gwinnt got us a possible location on Argent's hiding spot, a hotel over in Hancock."

"Call Hanckock's sheriff and let him know we're coming. Get me a team there now!" John forced himself away from the laughing criminal in interrogation and into his office to stew in peace.

.

* * *

.

Scott curled into a ball in the back of his cage, trying to shield his muscles from the cold. He could feel immediate relief as the fur started to spread across his skin, bathing him in warmth, even as he fought the pain of the wolfsbane binds. He wrapped his mind in the warmth, insulating it from the world around him and retreated into a cave of safety. Scott didn't even flinch anymore when they electrocuted him in search of information on an alpha that wasn't coming for him. The omega had chosen, and he turned down the security of a pack. He was alone and the knowledge that no one would come for him broke him faster than the cattle prods. After six days there was nothing left inside of him that could respond to the pain. Cold dead eyes gazed in the direction of the floor, not really seeing anything. He didn't respond to his name, wasn't even sure what it was anymore. The sixteen year old boy was gone and in his place was the empty shell of a wolf.

.

* * *

.

Chris had his mouth over his daughter's mouth before she knew what was happening. He watched the swat team pass the window trying to be as stealthy as they could before knocking quietly on his door. Chris opened it and dragged Allison down the hall, shoving her into their SUV as soon as the officer gestured for them to move. Allison ripped his hand off her mouth as soon as the door was closed and scooted all the way across the vehicle, as far from him as possible. "What is going on?" He pointed to the the room next to theirs when a flash bang ignited. Within seconds, her grandfather was being pulled from the room, his hands zip tied behind him. "Is this about the Beta?"

Chris nodded. "If they're here, it's only a matter of time before they connect it to your mother. It was her call."

Allison gasped. "Dad, who did they take?" He wouldn't look at her and Allison felt her stomach bottom out. "Dad, who did they take?"

"Scott."

"We're going back now." She reached into his jacket pocket pulling out his keys and jamming them into the ignition before pulling a burn phone from under the seat.

Chris placed his hand gently over the phone, pressing it into her lap. "Scott's gone, Allison."

"No!" She hit him violently until her fingers were numb and Chris just sat there and took the punishment.

"I'm sorry. Your mother wanted him to pay for corrupting you. She's had him for a week trying to get him to give up Derek, what ever is left isn't Scott. He's feral by now." A heavy guilt settled over his heart at his part in the abduction.

"How could they do this? How could you let this happen?" She was out of the car, sprinting across the parking lot in an attempt to get the man the were loading into the police cruiser, murder the only thing on her mind. Chris caught her before an officer's bullet found her brain. "Where is he you bastard?"

Gerard smirked inside the car but remained infuriatingly silent.

.

* * *

.

"Mel?" John entered the house, finding her curled on the couch, crying into Scott's pillow. "Mel, hon, I need you to focus for a minute."

"Have you found him?" Her eyes shot to his, desperation fueling her sudden energy burst.

"Not yet." He grabbed her before she could sink back into the couch. "But we found the man who took him, he's on his way back from Hancock right now. We're not giving up, not yet."

"Who?" Melissa's eyes flashed with steel and John was reminded again just how strong the McCall family could be.

"Gerard Argent."

She gasped as if sucker punched. "Allison's grandfather?"

"I'm afraid so." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Keep your chin up. We're going to find him."

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

Day 7

Gerard Argent smirked as he sat across the desk from the sheriff and it rubbed all of the men in the station the wrong way. There was plenty of circumstantial evidence and testimony to link Argent to Scott's kidnapping, but all of the testimonies were by people facing murder or attempted murder charges, Whittemore included. Without finding Scott there was nothing concrete to tie the old man to the crime and he was rather smug about it as he jeered at John. It took all his energy and restraint for John not to pull out his gun and shoot the bastard. Instead he turned the interrogation over to Gwinnt and hoped the profiler on loan from State would be of use.

His fingers itched with apprehension as he picked up the phone and dialed his son's number. Stiles hadn't been home in seven days and if it hadn't been for Mel telling him Stiles texted her every few hours he would think another son had disappeared.

"Have you found him?"

John grimaced at the hope in his son's voice, loathing the knowledge he was going to squash it. "No." Stiles let out a small whimper on the other end of the call. "We found Argent though. He's in with the profiler from State." There was a growl on the other end that he was sure wasn't his son, he wasn't even sure it was human.

"Did you find Allison's parents?"

John frowned. "No, why?"

"Damn it. They might be helping him. That means they could still have Scott." The conversation didn't seem to include him anymore and John wondered just who his son was talking to in the car. "This is bad. If they find out that Gerard was arrested…"

"Step on it."

The gruff and vaguely familiar voice shocked John. "Stiles, who's with you?"

"We'll call you if we find anything." The line was dead before Stiles had a chance to retort.

.

* * *

.

The phone call from the family lawyer sent a outraged cry from the lips of Victoria Argent, that had Scott been conscious of the world around him, he would have found a small smile. Instead he buried his muzzle in the crook of his elbow.

"Gerard's been arrested. We need to clear out now." Victoria Argent scowled at the animal lying half dead in the cage. They had one last chance the night before to pull something out of the beast, but the brat had shifted into full wolf when Hickory let the generator run out of gasoline. Scott was worthless to them now.

"Should we kill him?"

She turned steely eyes on Hickory and sneered. The hunter's incompetence would be dealt with later. "No. Leave him here to die as a warning to Hale. Anyone who protects him will suffer the same fate."

A sinister grin slid across the hunter's face as he kicked the cage and gave the wolf one final jolt with a cattle prod. He liked the idea of the filthy beast dying a slow agonizing death. Spitting on the matted fur, he gathered his equipment and followed Victoria from the barn, eager to move on to the next target. It was too bad the blond was a beast, he would have liked to have some fun with her. "I'll start tracking the girl."

"Report in six hours if you've found her." She snarled. "Hale's smart. He pulled his pack underground when Scott disappeared."

.

* * *

.

Stiles pulled over to the side of the road, taking a steadying breath as they stared at the fork in the road. "If we take the wrong one…"

"I know." Derek snarled. He stepped out of the Jeep and tried his best to find anything on the wind, any little scent that would steer them in the right direction. All he could smell was the stench of two worn bodies that hadn't seen a shower in seven days and ancient pine trees. His wolf growled and sent him careening into a tree to expend hie explosive anger. Whining in defeat, he crawled back in the vehicle and gestured to the left.

Stiles sent up a prayer that this time they were right. He kicked the Jeep back into gear and lumbered up the road to the left toward half of the map grids left. They were running out of places to check and he was at the point where desire to bring Scott's body home to his mother for a proper burial was become a very real thought. It was taking every bit of his stubborn will power not to get dragged down by the grief of another member of his family getting taken from him. He slammed his hand into the wheel, stopping his rising panic attack. He was not about to let his body give out on him when Scott needed him. He was bringing the lovable idiot home damn it and then kicking the crap out of him for worrying them all.

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

Day 8

John sat in his office, a bottle of bourbon in his hand. He had enough for an arrest warrant and Gerard Argent was cooling his jets in lockup with all his little gun toting buddies, but they were no closer to finding Scott. Eight days of surviving on coffee and antacids was starting to catch up to him. He could almost see the echo of Helen sleeping off one of her chemo treatments on his couch. What had he done, he wondered as he poured a drink, to anger fate so entirely. His wife was already taken from him, along with his son's youthful innocence. Now he was about to lose another dear soul, if not three. Melissa, who got them through Helen's death on sheer force of will, would not survive the loss of her son and John was terrified that Stiles wouldn't either. The amber liquid called out to him and John wished he could just crawl into the bottle and sleep. Sneering at his weakness, he swept the bottle and glass of his desk in a fit of sanity. He would not give in, not this time. Scott needed him and he was not failing the boy a second time. Rubbing his tired eyes, John opened his files once more, looking for anything that he might have missed.

.

* * *

.

Derek leaned forward in the car, peering out into the distance with a curse. "Stop." Stiles responded immediately, slamming on the breaks in the middle of the road. He fidgeted as Derek stood up, grabbing the binoculars and looking through the lens. "Damn it!"

"What?" Stiles jumped up and stole the binoculars from his growling companion.

"A line of cars coming down the ravine." He pointed in the direction of three small sets of lights.

A tremor of hope danced up Stiles' spine. "You think?"

"You see anything else remotely out the ordinary the last week?" Derek didn't wait for an answer, he was already flicking on a flash light and checking the map for a path over to the road they chose not to take. "We have to turn around and take the other road."

Stiles studied what he could see of the map over the werewolf's shoulder. "It's risky. We're going to run into the caravan."

Derek snarled, his hands curling around Stiles jacket and yanking him forward. "We're going back."

"Not arguing." Stiles scowled. "Just pointing out the fact we could be facing another dozen hunters."

"Then we kill them all." He was satisfied when the teen didn't argue. "They might be moving Scott."

"You really think so?" There was a fragile thread of hope in Stiles voice and Derek hated to destroy it.

"No."

It took four agonizing hours to backtrack to the fork in the road and Stiles could see the lights of the caravan a few miles down the road when the pulled up to the stop sign. "Pull off and kill the lights."

"What are you going to do?" Stiles backed into a small gap in the trees and killed the engine and lights.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Stiles fought the urge to hit Derek again.

"I'll be able to smell if he's in one of the cars. If not, we can't afford the time it will take to fight our way past them." Derek's wolf roared in his head at the loss of an opportunity to destroy their enemies, to hurt the people who hurt his pack.

"Right." Stiles settled down immediately, seeing the logic. "This sucks."

Derek snarled as the car rolled past their concealed location. He could smell the hunters in the car, as well as traces of Scott's blood, but the beta was not in the vehicles. After a moment of indecision, Stiles interrupted his mini strategy session.

"Well?"

"He's not in there, but I smell his blood. Call your Dad and give him the information. We'll follow the road." Stiles had his phone out before Derek finished the sentence, pouring the information out to his father and hanging up before he could be questioned. "Alright. They're far enough out. Let's go."

"Hang in there, Scott. We're coming."


	5. Chapter 5

Day 9

For once, John wasn't waiting for his deputies to come back and report to him, he was standing behind a cruiser at a road block, itching to be part of the team that stopped the rest of the people holding Scott. He needed to do something and Stile's wasn't sharing information about what areas they were searching. The four teams he assigned grid searches around the ambush site reported nothing that led to the missing boy.

His attention was drawn to the three SUVs speeding down the road toward them. "Look sharp, here they come." The Sheriff pulled his standard issue weapon and picked up the microphone on the car's megaphone. "This is the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. Stop your vehicle and remove the keys from the ignition."

Myers watched the lead car pick up speed. "I don't think they are stopping, Boss." He raised his shot gun to his shoulder, finding the grill in his sites.

"Put one in the engine block." John snarled as the cars aimed for the road block. Myers followed the order instinctively and watched with satisfaction as the SUV swerved out of control, clipping the second car and knocking both onto the shoulder. Unfortunately, the third car blew through the road block before Myers could reload. "Jones, get me that car!" John's attention returned to the men cautiously approaching the disabled vehicles, but he heard two of the reserve cruisers start in pursuit of the third car.

.

* * *

.

Stiles had been driving to every abandoned cabin in Beacon County, crossing them off the map one by one for the last two hundred hours. He was starting to lose all hope of ever finding his friend when his ever silent companion barked out an order to stop. He didn't hesitate to throw the car in park as Derek hopped out, practically ripping the door from its hinges. "Do you smell something?"

Instead of answering, Derek took off from the road into the woods, barely acknowledging Stiles pulling the old Jeep down the dirt path behind him. The smell led him to a old barn house a couple miles off the road and he immediately raced inside the building calling Scott's name. When nothing came, Derek tracked the foul stench into the basement and snarled at the sight. Scott had never transition to full wolf, never allowed the beast enough control, but the sick and injured timber wolf curled in the stench of its own waste was definitely Scott. Carefully, he sniffed at the wounds, angry to find the animal wrapped in wolfsbane soaked ropes. Scott let out a weak snarl as he reached for the ropes, but a reassuring chuff from Derek silenced the warning. The toxic oil stung his hand as he pulled the knots free and released the trembling animal.

"Derek? Is that," Stiles couldn't seem to finish his question.

"Yes." Something registered in the wolf's eyes and he whined, trying to scratch his way toward Stiles. "Get over here." Derek held Scott still until Stiles crouched down, gently placing his hand on the ebony head. The wolf took several heavy sniffs, as if to reassure himself of the scents around him before dropping to the floor with a pained yelp. With a whimper, the alpha wrapped the body in a tarp and lifted it in his arms, burying his nose in the blood stained fur under the wolf's chin. "I've got you. You're safe now."

Stiles took a look around the room, flinching at the rusted cage, suspended restraints and blood stained floor before following Derek back up the stairs. He was never going to get this image out of his nightmares and he'd only been here for five minutes. A sharp throb in his heart came with the realization that after nine days of captivity Scott might never make it back mentally.

Carefully the alpha set the wolf into the back of the Jeep, pillowed on the sleeping bags the smelled so heavily of his best friend and one time pack mate. Derek rubbed his hand over the fur, checking for an immediate threats or injuries before he slumped into the passenger seat. "Get to the clinic."

Stiles nodded, his throat closing in sadness. "Will he ever, I mean can he change back?" He jumped when Derek put a fist through his dashboard. "I'll take that as a no."

Derek growled, glancing over his shoulder at wolf whining pitifully in the back. "It's possible, but the damage they did to him will take a while to get past. It took the other person I knew years. Scott shut down to survive the pain and now he doesn't know how to be human anymore."

.

* * *

.

Melissa hissed at the sting of pain as she finally bit her nail down to the quick. Her free hand hesitated over the door to Scott's room but she couldn't make her body open the door, even if the police told her it was alright. Her baby had been stolen from this room, his blood spilt and body broken. She wasn't sure what would be worse, never knowing what happened to Scott or the finality of his death. At the moment she was leaning toward a complete and utter lack of information leaving her in a panicked limbo. With a stunted sob, she opened the door and felt her knees collapse under her. Scott's once safe and comfortable room looked like someone tried to cage a wild animal. She had a terrible urge to curl up in the middle of his bed and give up, but the man responsible was in custody and she just had to hold on to the hope that John would find him. She felt like she should be doing something more, be out searching like Stiles, but her legs were chained to the floor of the house, not allowing her to pass through the threshold for fear of killing Gerard Argent before he could tell them where Scott was hidden. Instead, she gave the room a determined look and steeled her spine. She was not about to let Scott come home to this shrine of destruction. Slowly, she picked up his trash can and started picking up the larger debris.

.

* * *

.

Chris studied the child sleeping on the bed across the room. He didn't really want to be here when she woke up, but there was no one else that could prevent her from doing something monumentally stupid, like walking up to a feral wolf and expecting him to wag his tail. He scowled and threw his bag on the other bed.

Allison was never going to forgive him, but the only way he could see getting her away from the town of Beacon Hills, even out of the hotel parking lot was to sedate her and drag her along for the ride. There was an all points bulletin on anyone with the Argent name and he needed to get them out of town. Victoria had called an hour ago saying that she was on her way to meet them in Seattle to regroup. He wasn't sure what sort of reception his wife was expecting from their daughter, but he was sure admiration and thanksgiving would not be among them. He debated hiding Allison's weapons, but something in his soul said Victoria was so far in the wrong that he wouldn't fault Allison for attacking her mother, his wife. He crashed heavily into his chair and wondered how it was they went from being the monster hunters to the monsters.

.

* * *

.

Deacon was waiting with the back door open and the operating room prepped when Stiles pulled behind the building. Derek had the wolf out of the back seat and on the operating table before Stiles even had his seatbelt off and the whole thing was going smoothly until the vet walked into the room. Scott went ballistic, barking and snapping, frothing at the jowls in anger.

Looking stunned, the doctor took a step back out of the room. "I'm going to have to sedate him. Hold him down."

Derek was immediately on the wolf, trying to hold him still with his body weight without causing anymore harm. His large hand dug into the bloody fur and he growled reassurances to the wolf that he was safe, that his alpha was there. Scott kept snarling at the doctor as he felt the needle in his flank but didn't have the strength to push the bulky werewolf off his body. Soon the body succumbed to the drugs, slipping into a blissful trance, but he could still hear Derek grumbling in his ear, smell Stiles holding is head gently. He whimpered, panicked by the loss of control, wanting desperately to break for the door and run to freedom.

"Hang in there, Scott. Doc's going to get you all patched up and we're going to get you home." Stiles rubbed the matted fur as the rest of the anesthesia was pumped into an IV and his best friend was pulled under.

"We can't take him home." Derek sighed heavily and sat back on a stool, observing Deacon carefully. "He's too feral. He'll end up hurting his mother without realizing it."

"But he feels safe there. He might change back faster." Stiles felt his hand grasp desperately at the fur.

"I'm afraid Derek is right, Stiles." Deacon shot the wolf a sad glance before turning to prepare the x-ray machine to uncover all the wounds the werewolf's body was too malnourished to repair. "He was taken from the house by someone he considered a friend. He won't feel safe there and post traumatic stress disorder will present even more catastrophically in this state. It's a very real possibility that he will attack his mother just as he tried to do to me." His heart flickered with agony. He spent four years mentoring Scott, moving him from a volunteer to an employee as soon as the boy was old enough to obtain a work permit. To see Scott this broken, so far from human was gut wrenching. If Gerard Argent hadn't been arrested, Allen would have hunted him down and killed him.

"Well, we can't just desert him." Stiles glared at the older man.

"He's coming with me." Derek geared up for Stiles' inevitable protest. "He's feral. He's going to act like a wolf and the only way to control him, to make him feel safe is for him to be with an alpha."

Stiles scowled, crowding Derek. "Tell me this isn't about another soldier for your war against the Argents."

The alpha growled back. "I'm going to forget you said that." His hands curled into Stiles shirt and lifted him. "You're human Stiles, you'll never understand the need for a pack." Derek forced himself to calm and release his hostage. "I'm not letting him go again, not after this."

Even human, Stiles could practically smell the guilt coming off Derek in waves and settled down, reassured. "You didn't do this to him, Derek."

"Peter dragged him into the middle of this, it makes him my responsibility." Watching as Derek ran his hand over Scott's muzzle with controlled gentleness, it was obvious to Stiles that the alpha's concern for his friend wasn't just obligation.

"If you two are done, I could use some help here." Deacon held an x-ray up to the light box. "We have several bones to set, two stab wounds and what looks like lacerations from a whip across his back."

Stiles could feel tears well in his eyes as he took in the laundry list of injuries. "I'm sorry." He rested his forehead against the wolf's. "I'm sorry it took us so long to find you." He only moved back when Dr. Deacon approached with the surgical instruments. "What do you need me to do?"

"Have a seat in the waiting room. I'll let you know when I'm done." He placed a reassuring hand on Stiles' shoulder.

"No." Derek's posture made it obvious he wasn't moving beyond the table.

"Derek," the vet sighed and prepared for battle.

"If the anesthesia wears off you aren't strong enough to restrain him." His words bordered on snarls and the vet relented.

"At least sit over there. You're in my way."

Derek scowled, but moved to sit in the chair in the corner of the room. Stiles immediately followed him and crashed down on the floor, allowing his head to rest against a cabinet as exhaustion over took him.

.

* * *

.

"Where is Scott McCall?"

Hickory stared at the Sheriff with bored contempt. "Don't know what you are talking about."

John sneered at the redneck as he threw a worn leather wallet on the table. "You like taking souvenirs, Frank?" He gestured to the smiling picture of Scott on his license. "Tell me where he is."

"I think I'll wait for my lawyer if it's all the same to you." Hickory's smug look almost drove John to homicide.

"You do that." He stood up, grabbing the evidence. "And when the DNA comes back on that little box of toys in your car your lawyer can explain the likelihood of you breathing free air again in this millennium." He turned and left the room before he gave in to the urge to pull his gun.

.

* * *

.

* * *

.

Day 10

"Stiles, wake up." The teen snapped his eyes open to meet the soft gaze of the vet. "Everything is finished. Scott should be healed by tomorrow morning, physically anyway." He smiled and held his hand out to help the boy up.

"Where's Derek?" He was sure the alpha wasn't leaving the wolf's side for anything.

"I sent him for a shower. The wolfsbane that transferred from Scott was starting to do some damage." He stepped back and gave Stiles the first glimpse of his friend. Scott's ebony coat was stripped with ivory. The majority of his torso and all four paws were wrapped in bandages, some spotted with crimson. His coat was wet from the attempt to clean off the filth and prevent injuries making his look even more pathetic. "He's been on intravenous nutrition for a few hours but when he wakes up he'll be hungry. It was enough to jump start his healing but he's going to need a lot of calories for the next few days. I would suggest beef." He shot him a warning look. "No dog food."

Stiles frowned at the healer. "Not exactly time for jokes." He rubbed Scott's fuzzy ear. "Is Derek right? Is he going to be stuck like this?"

"I've only seen two cases where hunters tortured a werewolf to the point they lost their humanity. One made it back and the other one didn't." Deacon rested his hands on the table by Scott's ear. "I know how reluctant you and Scott were to join Derek's pack, but Derek is right. He's going to need an alpha. The one that made it back was Derek's cousin. She was practically glued to his father's shadow for two years before she finally felt safe enough to turn back. The other one was an omega. He was rescued with Natalie, but he refused Derek's father's offer to join his pack. He found a den in the reserve and refused to leave it for any reason for fear of the hunters. He died of starvation after a few weeks." Deacon turned sad eyes back to Stiles. "Derek remembers what his cousin went through. If anyone could, he'll be able to help Scott find his way back. You trusted him to help you find Scott, trust him now."

Stiles sighed heavily and nodded. "For Scott."

Derek allowed a small smile to touch his lips from his hiding spot in the hallway. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and walked back into the room, ending the conversation. "Let's get him to the depot before his wakes up."

Stiles nodded and pulled his keys from his pocket. "Then what?"

"You go home and sleep. You've been running on fumes for a week and a half." Stiles started to protest but Derek held up a hand to stop him. "I'm going to crash too and Scott will probably sleep through the healing. Get eight hours, let your father know that you're alive and head back over tomorrow morning."

Stiles growled but nodded his head. "I'll have to tell his mom something tomorrow. I can't just keep letting her think he's missing."

"I would suggest telling her the truth." Deacon went over to a cabinet behind the reception desk and pulled out a file. "This is Scott's file. We've been documenting everything since he was bitten."

Derek opened the file and his lips pulled back in a snarl when he found injuries that he was unaware of written on the forms. "When did these happen?"

Stiles peeked over his shoulder and looked at the entry in question. He grimaced and snatched the file. "There was an altercation between Gerard Argent and Scott outside the hospital?" Stiles shoved the file in the pocket of his hoodie and started for the door. "I'm sure he was going to tell you about it. I'll just pull the car around."

Derek's claws bit into his palms and he took a deep breath to calm himself down. Sincere eyes turned to the vet and he fought to push the words out he needed to say. "Thank you, for taking care of him when I didn't." He turned away in angry shame and started back for the injured wolf.

"Derek?" Deacon waited for the alpha to turn around. "Scott has always wanted to trust you, the betrayal with Peter colored a lot of your relationship, but that is gone now." He shot another grieving look at the wolf. "I suggest you use this as a fresh start. Be the alpha Scott always hoped you would be."

"I will." The gruff words were the last spoken as Derek carefully scooped up the wolf and carried him back out to the Jeep.

.

* * *

.

Isaac and Erica watched silently as Derek walked into the depot with an injured wolf in his arms. He disappeared into his rail car for fifteen minutes before finally emerging. "Where's Boyd?"

"Home. His sister called a few hours ago." Isaac stood and walked over to alpha, feeling the rage and helplessness pouring off the elder. "Where have you been?" There were enough rumors flying around school about Scott McCall's kidnapping and the absence of Stiles for them to put two and two together but they were hoping Derek would fill in the blanks after all but demanding that they hide out in the depot for over a week.

"Hunting Argents." He rubbed his eyes and fought off the exhaustion for a few more minutes. "The hunters have been taken care of for now. It's safe for you to come out of hiding, at least as long as Jackson and Gerard are in jail."

"Did Jackson really take Scott?"

"Yes. He gave him to Gerard." Derek snarled and abruptly walked away signaling the end of the conversation. "I'm getting some sleep. Call Boyd and fill him in."

Erica frowned at her alpha. Although she wasn't as in tune with his moods as Isaac, she could tell something was bothering him and it had something to do with the wolf he just hid in his den. She shook off the feeling and turned to Isaac. "I'll stop at Boyd's on my way home. See what you can get out of him." She pointed to the darkened car.

Isaac snorted at the Herculean task. "We're not getting anything out of him until he's ready."

"Fine, I'll ask him." She huffed and walked into the car despite knowing Derek didn't want to be disturbed. "Derek."

Derek managed to get the wolf settled in his subway car before he woke from the surgeries, but Scott freaked out again when Erica got too close to the nest they created next to the alpha's pallet. "Back off!" Derek was immediately between Erica and Scott, his back to the Beta and his eyes boring into the wolf trying feebly to stand despite his injuries. "Erica, back out of here, now." Derek moved over to the wolf, rumbling growls sounded from his throat, soothing Scott. "Easy, you're not up for a fight and she's pack." Slowly, his hand tangled in the fur at the nape of his next. "Easy." He helped Scott settle back down, careful of the injuries. "Idiot. Just rest. You're safe here." He heard Erica dash out of the depot but didn't turn his eyes from Scott. Instead, he sat next to the injured animal and ran a soothing hand over his flank. "Isaac, go to the store and grab a cooler, ice and ten pounds of chuck roast." He watched the teen nod through the window, ignoring the warning growl from Scott. When Isaac's car was gone, he stretched out on his pallet and draped an arm over his eyes. "They're both gone now. You can go to sleep." Scott whimpered in pain before burrowing his nose under the pile of towels and t-shirts Derek turned into his bed. He fell into a pained sleep and soon after, Derek fell from consciousness. The alpha never explained where the injured wolf came from, but his pack would understand that the animal was sacred and not to be harmed in any way. He knew that it wouldn't be long before Isaac figured out that the wolf was Scott and told the others, but until then he was more worried about keeping Scott from killing the rest of the pack.

.

* * *

.

Stiles sighed when he walked in the door of his house. Not wanting to leave his friend, Stiles was tempted not to go back home, but he'd been hiding out with Derek for over a week while they looked for Scott and his father deserved to know that he was still alive. He wasn't sure how he was going to make amends for the words said in his office, angry remarks meant to inflict as much pain as Stiles was feeling at the time. As far as he was concerned Scott was as good as blood and the adults in their lives, the ones they were supposed to trust had failed them. "Dad?"

The sheriff launched off his chair and pulled Stiles into a hug, one shyly returned. "I've been worried sick about you. Where have you been?"

"Looking for Scott."

His father flinched and pulled away, half expecting to see the same hatred in his sons eyes, instead there was a resigned weariness. "No luck?"

"We found him."

The fact that Stiles wasn't more excited brought all sorts of horrid images of bodies in ravines to the veteran police officer. "Is he alive?"

"In a matter of speaking." Stiles sank down in the chair. "He's not human anymore."

"Did you take him to the hospital?"

Stiles shook his head emphatically. "No, we took him to the clinic. I mean it, he's not human anymore. He shifted and now he's stuck."

"Stiles what are you talking about?" Anger started to curl in his gut with every cryptic answer.

"You saw the photos from the video store, the animal attacks, heard the howling, you telling me you didn't put two and two together and figure out werewolves were involved?" Stiles snorted tiredly and dropped Deacon's file on the coffee table. "The man responsible for all the Hale revenge murders was Derek's uncle. He turned Scott."

"And you didn't think I needed to know any of this?"

His son's normal sheepish expression was missing as he shot his father a hard glare. "We tried to tell you but you were too busy reading us a restraining order." Stiles stood heading for the back of the house. "Look, Scott's alive, but stuck as a wolf, possibly for years until he calms down enough to turn back. Derek said he shut down his human brain to deal with the torture."

"Torture?" John knew from the tools in Hickory's trunk that Scott's treatment wasn't stellar, but he was hanging on to that last shred of hope that they would find Scott relatively unharmed.

Ignoring his father's horrified whisper, Stiles pushed on. "And now I have to figure out whether to tell Scott's mom that he's alive when she won't be able to see him. He won't let any other humans within ten feet of him without taking a limb. Even Dr. Deacon was almost flayed and Scott loves him."

Stiles looked over his shoulder at his father, seeing the defeat in the set of his shoulders. He seemed to gather some energy before looking at Stiles. "I know it doesn't make it right, but Jackson Whittmore and Gerard Argent are in custody. Jackson's not going anywhere for a very long time, but I don't think we have enough to hold Argent, especially if Scott can't testify. The guys we picked up this morning are covering for him."

"Chris and Victoria?"

"In the wind." John snarled and tightened his grip on the phone in his hand as if willing it to ring.

"There's a barn six miles south east of the preservation by Hixon bluff. That's where we found Scott." Stiles turned without looking at his father as he walked up the stairs. He was asleep before he even hit his pillow. For now his enemies were in jail or on the run, his best friend was alive and his father would figure out how to deal with Scott's mom. The poor woman hadn't slept in over a week and Stiles wasn't sure what condition she would be in other than broken. Based on the desperate texts he received on the hour to see if he had news about Scott, Stiles knew that she wasn't going to take the news well. Derek was pretty sure that Scott wouldn't be turning back any time soon, but he had faith in his best friend. Scott would fight his way back. He had to for them.

.

* * *

.

Melissa felt her heart stop when she opened the door to see John standing next to a nervous Stiles. Scott was nowhere in sight and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know what they came to tell her. "You found him?"

Stiles nodded reluctantly, wishing his father hadn't dragged him out of his unconscious stupor a mere three hours after he fell asleep. "More or less."

Her knees weakened and she felt her body collapse against John. "Is he dead?"

John wrapped her in his arms. "No. He's alive."

"I want to see him."

Stiles flinched at the request. "You can't."

She wrenched her body from the supportive hold and glared at her son's best friend. "What do you mean I can't? Take me to my baby now, Stiles."

"There's something we need to tell you about Scott and Peter Hale." He rubbed at the fuzz on his head nervously. "Scott's not human anymore. He was bitten by a werewolf."

"This isn't time for jokes, Stiles!" She fought the urge to smack him upside the head.

"He's not joking, Mel." John held out the medical file from Doctor Deacon as well as the file from the Hale murders. "Scott was turned the day before school."

She fought the urge to slam the door in John's face, angry that he would be making up these ridiculous stories at a time like this, but his eyes were sincere and haunted. "What are you talking about?" She snatched the files out of his hand. Opening the top one, she found a picture of Scott in is Beta transformation as well as a photo of an injured wolf. "What is this?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but Scott really is a werewolf." Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing that this message had been Derek's to give, but he was the best friend, not the alpha and this was all he could do for Scott at the moment. "The Argents are werewolf hunters that have been trying to kill Scott since they arrived in town. It got worse after Allison's mom found out he was dating her daughter and she started to get obsessed. They are the ones that had Scott."

"What did they do to him?" Tears ran down her face as she read the medical reports and learned how many times her son had been injured without her knowledge.

"The short answer? He was tortured for information about his alpha, Derek Hale." Stiles ushered her over to the rocking chair on the porch and helped her sit down. "Derek said that it was too much for Scott's mind to handle and he gave in to the wolf." Stiles pointed to the photo of the black wolf. "Dr. Deacon said the transformation helped him stay alive until we found him, but he's stuck like that now. He won't change back until he feels safe and after everything he's been through that could take years."

Melissa looked up when she heard the devastation in Stiles voice and that more than anything convinced her that what he was saying was real. Her arms reached out, drawing him into a hug as they cried out their anger together. "Why can't I see him?"

Stiles whimpered. "He's feral. He's attacking any human within a hundred yards of him. Deacon said it was like PTSD but worse because he's a wolf." He shivered. "He almost killed Deacon last night when he came into the operating room and you know how much Scott loves him." He looked awkwardly at the ground. "I think the only reason Scott lets me near him is because I was with Derek when he found him."

Melissa gasped and felt her nails bite into palms as the tears continued to flow. "So I won't ever be able to see him?"

"We think in a few weeks, after Derek has a chance to help him calm down that maybe we can try to bring him home. But not yet." He felt his chest tighten at the pain in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we didn't find him faster."

Fierce brown eyes shot to his. "Don't you dare, Stiles. You found him. You brought Scott home alive, so don't you even think about apologizing. If I have to wait, then I will." She faltered. "At least now I know he's alive and safe."

Stiles dove back in for a hug, overwhelmed by the forgiveness of his guilt. "We'll get him home. We're not giving up on him."

"I know you won't." She gave him a watery smile and held him tightly. Shifting her eyes upward, she caught John's glance and saw he too was crying. When the distraught father whispered a relieved thank you she just nodded and allowed them all a moment to grieve the innocent boy her son was before he was taken.


End file.
